Fragments of Freedom
by katachresis
Summary: Naraku decides that it's time he and Miroku met. very AU, dark. yaoi, NarakuMiroku
1. Waking Dream

First of all.... I'm so cheap. I can't think of a name, so I start flipping through my music and find something. Props to whoever knows where this one came from.  
  
Warnings for this fic: Naraku/Miroku, AU, yaoi, rape, ncs, darkness. It won't be pretty, at least not for most of it. I'm leaving my options open.   
  
Additionally, because this fic will probably have a lot of lemony bits to it, there's a high possibility I won't update it here on ff.net, but only on my page.  
  
Thanks to Kat, tdei for beta-ing, and thanks especially to Rin, who hasn't killed me for this. (yet. n.n;)  
  
One final note: this takes place -before- Miroku meets Inuyasha-tatchi.  
  
--==--  
  
Miroku glanced around the palace, measuring it up as the nervous servant glanced around him. The place seemed moderately wealthy.  
  
The servant was an old man, weathered by age, and his eyes almost completely disappeared into his wrinkles. "Thank you kind sir!" He bowed, for what had to be the hundredth time since he had found Miroku.   
  
He put on his best, most gracious smile. "I am happy to help. It is my duty, as a monk." He glanced over the servant's shoulder, eye caught by a large Chinese urn. "Really, it's an honor to be of assistance to such an important family," he said distractedly as he mentally calculated the worth of the urn. He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed slightly. "Please, show me to the room your master is in."  
  
The servant nodded, bowing even lower this time. Miroku gritted his teeth as he smiled. He liked formality as much as anyone, but this was getting out of hand.  
  
They paused outside the door, and Miroku turned to the servant. "Remember, once you leave, do not come back inside the palace until after daybreak, no matter what you hear. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your safety."  
  
The servant nodded. "I will follow your instructions, my lord. Please, do all in your power to save my master!"  
  
Miroku waved the servant off. He babbled too much. Contemplating the door, he frowned. There was something evil behind it... faint, but distinct. And somehow, familiar. He raised his hand to the door as the servant's footsteps faded into the distance.   
  
First things first, he supposed, and slid the door open, squinting as he stepped in. The room was dark, the light from the few candles moving sluggishly through air thick with the smoke of incense.  
  
In the middle of the room, lying on a thin reed mat was a shadowed form that he assumed must be the master of the household.  
  
He slid the door shut behind him and approached the figure, kneeling beside the figure, who he could see was at least as young as he, if not younger. He just looked at the boy for a moment, taking in the way his long, wavy dark hair fell past his pale cheeks. He hardly looked real.  
  
Miroku grinned to himself. Hell, he hardly looked like a boy. If he didn't know better, and couldn't see the bits of flat, muscled chest that showed through the boy's clothing, he would have thought the boy was a girl.   
  
He brought his hands up to pray, closing his eyes. A low moan broke through the concentration he was trying to gain, and his eyes snapped open to see the boy tossing restlessly.  
  
A pair of the deepest eyes he had ever seen fluttered open, still heavy with confusion and sleep. Miroku's breath caught in his throat slightly as they rested on him.  
  
"What...." His voice came out in a raspy whisper, and the boy cleared his throat slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was clear, deep and commanding. "Who are you?"  
  
Miroku managed to keep his expression serene as possible, even while the hair on the back of his neck prickled. This had never happened before... was this a trick of the demon's?  
  
The boy sat up, staring at him in dazed confusion. "Who are you," he repeated, his words barely more than a whisper as he stared at the monk.  
  
Miroku cleared his throat, surveying the boy warily. Finally, he answered. "...I am a monk."   
  
"A monk?" The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "They called a monk for my illness?"  
  
"They were afraid you were being possessed."  
  
"I was simply feeling ill." The boy smiled wryly. "My servants, however, are rather paranoid, it seems." He paused, and the silence played out awkwardly. Miroku still watched the boy. Something about him still placed him on edge.  
  
"Can I at least offer you a place to stay for the night for your trouble?" The boy's eyes glinted bronze in the candlelight, and Miroku's negative caught in his throat as he unexpectedly found himself caught by them, entranced.  
  
He didn't think it was possible for a boy to have such lovely eyes. The light brush of fingertips against his cheek took him by surprise, and he felt his cheeks heating. "Please, stay."  
  
Dumbly, he found himself nodding, and the boy smiled warmly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Miroku's ear. "Good. But it's very quiet... did you send all the servants away?"   
  
The question caught Miroku off guard, and he paused, drawing back slightly. "Yes... I wanted to keep them safe."   
  
A low chuckle. "Good." He stretched slightly, then sighed. "Perhaps you would like some sake?"  
  
"Aren't you ill?" He watched the young lord. He looked fine... Miroku frowned. His movements were natural, simple. His speech, though slightly informal, wasn't what he had come to expect from those possessed.   
  
Perhaps there was no danger after all. He relaxed slightly, still keeping his sight trailed on the other man.  
  
"What's better for illness than sake?" Another brilliant smile, and a wink, as the boy's hands dropped to his, pulling slightly. "Come, this room has a ghastly feel to it."  
  
Miroku hesitated for the barest second more, then nodded, smiling. 


	2. Stolen Kisses

Oh god, this chapter was entirely more work than it's really worth. *sighs* Forgive me for the long delay, as well as the shortness of this chapter-- I had to find the best cutting off point in the action, both to actually -get- it posted, and because the second half of the chapter is lemon anyway... I'll put the finished lemon up on my webpage as soon as I beat it into shape.... probably a week from now or so, I've got midterms to work on. x.O  
  
Anyway, warning for this chapter: NCS limeish, yaoi. You've been warned -- and sorry to the couple of people who asked me not to make this a ncs fic, it was in the cards since I plotted it out.   
  
Thanks to Catie and Colin for beta-ing and keeping me from killing it entirely XD  
  
--==--  
  
Fat, ginger shadows drifted under Miroku's feet, and he paused on the low bridge, watching the koi for a moment. They created tiny, shimmering ripples on the surface of the moonlit water.  
  
Lovely. The gardens were perfect, exquisitely designed and maintained. But for some reason, he couldn't appreciate them. A faint sense of unease clung to him. Frowning, he shook his head slightly.   
  
He was beeing foolish. He had been in the boy's company for hours, drinking, talking about nothing. He was absolutely normal. There was nothing for him to worry over. He glanced up, suddenly self-consious to see the young lord was watching him curiously. "Is something amiss?"  
  
Miroku shook his head. "Not at all." He smiled slightly. "I was simply appreciating the beauty of my surroundings."  
  
The boy leaned against the rail of the bridge, eyes dark as they rose to stare at the stars. His hair shimmered faintly, a few moonlit strands the only thing that seperated it from the inky sky.  
  
Miroku raised his cup of sake to his lips, letting the firey alcohol slide down his throat like water. He had lost track of how much he had already drank, enough to feel pleasantly warm and fuzzy, as if the world had been dimmed slightly.  
  
Not nearly enough. He sighed, eyes once again resting on his drinking companion.   
  
"Beautiful..." he breathed the word out, hardly realizing it. Eyes that reflected starlight dropped back to his, and without thinking, he reached forward, catching the back of the boy's neck, drawing him forward into a slow, deep kiss. Dimly, he knew that he would regret his rashness shortly, but...  
  
But the other's mouth tasted of sake and cherries and he trembled ever-so-slightly as he kissed Miroku back languidly, not quite hesitantly.   
  
And as suddenly as the kiss begun, it ended. The lordling stared at him, eyes wide and strangely empty.  
  
Miroku shivered slightly, turning away. "Forgive me, lord. I.... forgot myself."  
  
"Yes... I suppose you have."   
  
A moment of heavy silence fell. It wrapped itself around Miroku, a heavy weight constricting his chest. And suddenly, it was broken by low laughter, and a pair of warm arms winding around his waist.  
  
"You have not offended me. In truth, it is I who should apologize." Miroku relaxed into the embrace slightly, enjoying the warmth of the arms that held him.  
  
"For what?"  
  
Warm breath danced over his ear as the boy behind him chuckled, making him shiver.   
  
"I haven't even introduced myself, have I, Miroku?"   
  
The feeling of something being very, very -wrong- came back, a thousandfold, and he tensed, eyes going wide.   
  
"My name is Naraku."  
  
Miroku felt his heart thud into his chest and his breath stop. His head was suddenly, painfully clear. He jerked forward, out of that seductive, soft embrace, spinning to face the other boy... disbelieving.  
  
But he wasn't there. The sake cup slid out of his suddenly loose fingers to clatter hollowly against the wood of the bridge, and he reached for the beads that twined around his wrist automatically, eyes searching the darkness.  
  
A low laugh sent him spinning back around, pulling at the knot, a hairsbreadth from ripping the seal open before his hand was caught in an impossibly strong grip.  
  
"Miroku, do you think that will really have any effect?" The demon shook his head, pulling at Miroku's wrist, dragging him a couple steps closer. "I have nothing to fear from the void..." he pressed his lips to the priest's fingertips. "I created it."  
  
Miroku stared, utterly incapable of speaking.  
  
"I must say..." fingertips brushed his face again, echoing their movement from earlier. "I'm quite pleased. You're a great deal more attractive than your grandfather was."  
  
He flinched away, testing the other's grip. "Let me go," he growled.  
  
The demon quirked an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "After all the trouble I took to get you here?"  
  
"You..." He sputtered, drew in a shuddering breath, clearly furious.   
  
Naraku laughed, drawing the angry human into a loose embrace. "I think it's important to know one's enemy, don't you?" His lips sealed Miroku's angry retort, reducing it to a strangled shout. 


	3. Cold Comfort

I'm aware that I'm chickening out in this chapter. Don't kill me?  
  
I'll use Catie's excuse... too focus -too- much on the sex would be to detract from the core of the fic... it's all about the emotion, rather than the... yea, you guys aren't buying it. ._.; Suffice it to say that this was a hard chapter for me to write. :/  
  
Anyway! Thanks to Colin, Catie, and Tdei for beta-reading... and thanks to everyone for being patient. I know my writing pace has sucked lately, and I'm sorry :/   
  
--==--  
  
Quickly, Miroku ripped himself away from the kiss, pushing away from the youkai with all his strength and mangling to stumble back a few steps. Disgustedly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
The demon shook his head, clearly amused, and stepped forward, reaching for Miroku again.  
  
"Don't touch me."  
  
A thin eyebrow, arched, and Naraku caught the human's wrist, though he tried to pull away again. "You didn't seem to mind just a moment ago."   
  
"That was then," Miroku gritted out between clenched teeth, testing the youkai's grip.  
  
Naraku smiled then as he twisted the monk's wrist viciously. With a choked cry of pain Miroku followed the movement, falling heavily to his knees. A hard shove sent him toppling back, gasping as the youkai settled on top of him, mouth lowering, sliding over Miroku's jawline.  
  
His hands were pinned firmly, pressed uncomfortably down on the hard wood of the bridge by Naraku's. The youkai leaned over him, and his hair fell around them in heavy waves, blocking out everything, all of the light, except the occasional hint of moonlight that struck Naraku's face, highlighting his lips, his eyes as his head dipped lower and lower...  
  
There was no sound either, except their breathing and Naraku's tongue darting out to slide wetly along Miroku's lip.  
  
He clenched his jaw and turned his head to the side, avoiding the contact as best he could.   
  
One of Naraku's hands had loosened its grip on his wrist, falling to his waist. It was warm and strong, caressing him through his clothes lightly. It tickled, made him tense up. "Stop." His voice was firm, commanding, but the fact that he was shaking belied it.  
  
Lips trailed down his neck, a whisper of silken skin and hot breath and Miroku couldn't keep from trembling when Naraku stopped to nibble at the skin delicately.   
  
The demon's hand pulled at the simple knots of his robe, allowing it to fall apart, his hand resting hotly on the human's hip. Miroku twisted, trying to pull his clothes back on with his free hand.  
  
A low growl made his hair prickle, and teeth slid roughly over the lobe of his ear, a warning. Biting his lip on a low cry, he let his hand fall back down, limply.   
  
"You can't fight this." The words so closely followed his realization, that for a minute, he didn't realize that Naraku had actually spoken them. He closed his eyes.  
  
Naraku's mouth slid down, uncomfortably hot as it trailed over his collarbone, tongue flicking out into the hollow at the bottom of his neck. Long, delicate fingers splayed over his chest, toying with a nipple softly, eliciting a muffled gasp from Miroku.  
  
The youkai leaned up, catching Miroku's mouth in a hot, slow kiss, deceptively gentle, and despite himself he could feel himself weakening, trembling with more than just revulsion. Hands drifted lower, pulling his legs apart and up, slid between them.  
  
He groaned into the kiss as Naraku's robes brushed against him almost teasingly, stroking him gently as any lover had in the past.   
  
The youkai pulled back, chuckling, fingers trailing sensuously over Miroku's hip, sliding slowly, maddeningly lower, pausing so close, but entirely too far. He whimpered, holding perfectly still, while low in his ear, the demon's deep voice made him shudder. "Perhaps I'll keep you."  
  
Lips slid over his skin, hands, unhurriedly seeking out every sensitive spot, every cry he had in him. Toying with him, until he writhed in the demon's arms, then taking him, quickly, almost harshly.  
  
Miroku felt his control shatter, and he was sobbing into the demon's shoulder, crying out with the absolute intensity of everything - where physical sensation and emotions bled in to each other, so that he couldn't tell what he was feeling, could only breathe, deep rasping shudders, as the waves crashed within him again and again.  
  
And suddenly it was over.   
  
He was cold.   
  
It was the first thing he noticed, the trembling of his limbs that had nothing to do with hate or fear or pleasure or the sick twisting of his stomach, but rather the cool night air.  
  
He could feel warmth radiating off the youkai who still held him loosely, and though it felt like he was freezing, the heat made him nauseous. He closed his eyes, trying to stop shivering. Shut them even tighter, as if it would wake him up. The arms tightened around him, drawing him closer.  
  
A hand reached up to his cheek, brushing away the tears that still leaked out of his eyes. Lips pressed to the skin, gently, but the claws stroking the skin of his back belied the gesture that might have otherwise been comforting.  
  
He was shaking, and he couldn't stop. Naraku shifted around him, scooping him up into his arms, standing. Miroku let his head rest on the demon's shoulder, distantly thinking that he should do... something. He was tired though, his eyes drifting shut, though he tried to keep them open.  
  
Naraku laid him down inside the palace, pulling a heavy blanket over him, brushing his hair away from his face. Miroku opened his eyes, slowly, looking up at him.  
  
He was smiling, a thin, self-satisfied twist of his lips. Miroku closed his eyes again, turning his face away, shutting it out.  
  
He wasn't able to block out the demon's soft breath or the gentle fingers that combed through his hair, lulling him to sleep. 


End file.
